God Help the Outcasts
by MyMindsTellingMeNo
Summary: A young Sam Winchester tries to cope with his family's situation by praying to heaven, accidentally calling down an angel while a teenage Dean contemplates suicide and punishes himself with self harm. however, is later stopped by a certain somebody.
1. Chapter 1

To anyone else, to any other normal family, it would've been an ordinary Saturday night. But it wasn't anyone else, and it wasn't any other normal family. This was the Winchesters, and it was the eve of Sam's tenth birthday, which meant Dean had spent all of his savings on a cheap, two-day movie rental. Unfortunately, unlike the other ones, this one was Sam's choice. It wasn't Dean's type of movie per se, but he supposed he'd have to make due. John after all, was hunting as usual, not bothering to think twice about leaving the boys alone. As for Dean, he had grown up protecting Sam, becoming more of a father figure than John could ever hope to be.

Rather than another Die Hard marathon, Sam picked a cheerier movie, a simple Disney one. The Hunchback of Notre Dame, soon to become one of his favorite ones through the years.

As they hiked back to the hotel, Dean turned over to Sam, taking no notice of the dusty road, with the dead trees hanging limp on the side, and the drunk truck drives zooming past every now and then.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

Dean sighed inwardly, knowing how much Sam seemed to love having the final say so. "I'm not going to be watching the movie. It's for babies. I'd rather be watching Die Hard."

Sam glanced up at his brother, not knowing what to say exactly. It wasn't a very big surprise, Dean had started to neglect him more often, since that day Sam had found him bleeding in the bathroom.

"But it's my birthday tomorrow, you said we could." Sam whined, trying to convince his brother.

"Just, shut up, okay? You don't know anything Sammy, you're just a kid."

The rest of the walk was quiet, neither of them knew exactly what to say, as they were the only friends the other had. Dean never had the time to develop a full-time relationship, though there were plenty of girls who he would've considered for the position. Instead, he settled for meaningless second base in the janitor's closet. As for Sam, the closest relationship he had was with his English teacher. The poor kid was bullied day after day, hoping Dean would always make him feel better by the end of it. However, what could Dean possibly be capable of doing, other than making Sam more miserable than he already was? Both of them complained about dinner, what movies to watch, what was good on TV, when Dad would be coming back, and the last argument that would always gift wrap the night, was when would Sam be able to leave.

Both of them would cry themselves to sleep. Dean knowing he had upset Sam, and thinking how tired he was of this life, and Sam knowing he would never be like all of the other boys at school.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the two approached the motel they were staying at, The Lay-Z Place. It was some local place run by John's distant friend and his wife, not a very happy looking building, nor an enjoyable one, but it was perfect for the Winchesters.

The bricks were a decaying pink colour, with yellow vines running up the sides of it like veins, and moldy windows covered by slanted faded shudders, covered in inch-thick dust. This would be their third week staying in it, and the neighbors were constantly at their door, bickering about the noise from Dean's westerns, and Sam's cartoons. It had been days since they had seen a parental figure, and were soon going to be telling maintenance.

Sam snarled at the building, his lip curling into a scowl, as he reluctantly followed Dean into the cramped room of 66.

"I'm bored,"

"So? Go watch your stupid movie and shut up, I'll be in the bathroom. Don't come in unless I tell you, got it?" Dean barked, sending a chill up Sam's back. It wasn't often Sam heard Dean order him, or even yell at him. Both of them were rather peaceful around the other most of the time.

Sam blew out a breath, puffing up his cheeks as he took his movie and plopped down onto his bed. "But I wanna watch it with you, Dean." He muttered, looking up at his brother with pleading eyes, clearly watering up. "We always watch movies together. Always, you promised."

Dean ignored him, pulling open the fridge door to grab one of John's beers, leftover Kraft Dinner for Sam, and a small pocket knife, which he slid under his sleeve. He left the Kraft Dinner on the counter, not even bothering to cook it for his brother. He quickly ducked into the bathroom, silencing any conversation with Sam with the quick sound of the lock turning.

As for the younger Winchester, he just laid on his bed, not knowing what to do. Whether to insert the movie, or just go to sleep. He glanced over into the small kitchen area, spotting the leftovers sitting on the counter, debating whether or not to heat it up.

From the bed, he could hear Dean in the bathroom, taking in sharp breaths, completed with a exhale. This repeated several times, until a single wince rang out, causing Sam to jump off of the bed and run to the door. Dean had been doing this day after day, hour after hour, it was as if he couldn't stop.

Sam rapped on the door, his fist flying faster the longer it took for Dean to open. "Dean!" He called. "Dean, are you okay? Come watch with me!"

"Go away Sam, I'm fine!" Dean screamed, throwing something incredibly heavy against the door, forcing Sam to step back a bit. "I'm alright Sammy, go watch your movie." He repeated in a slow, steady voice, trying not to breathe to roughly.

Tears formed in Sam's eyes as he paced back in forth in front of the door, constantly thinking of his brother, and how he could see a small patch of blood underneath of the door, collecting more and more of the scarlet liquid by the second.

Finally, after a good five minutes he ran to the land phone, earnestly raising it to his ear and dialing in his father's cell phone, listening impatiently to the never ending ringing, waiting for it to end. Though it never did, it just rang and rang and rang.

"Hello—" John's rough voice began.

"Daddy! Daddy you have to help me, Dean's—"

"—this is John Daniels, you know what to do." A loud beep rang out, as Sam stared at nothing, thinking what was happening. Why wasn't his father picking up his phone? His brother was practically dying. He needed help. Where was John?

He sighed sharply, breathing into the phone. "Daddy, it's Sammy. Can you come home? Dean's in trouble. He's in the bathroom, with a locked door, and I think he's bleeding! I need you, daddy. Please." Sam whimpered softly, hanging up the phone with a light click, as he made his way over to the food, plopping it into the microwave. He glanced up over at the door again, waiting for his brother to pop out with a huge grin on his face, as he started the movie, and swirled Sam around in the air. But as usual, it never happened. Ever since they had changed schools again, Dean had been acting different. He wore darker clothes, and a constant scowl painted on his face.

"Ah! Fuck!" Dean screamed from the bathroom, echoing throughout the entire room, and no doubt upset the neighbors staying next door. Sam ran to the bathroom door, trying hard to kick down the door like he saw in all of Dean's cop movies. However, his foot just seemed to hit the door and bounce back as if it were made of rubber. "What the fuck are you trying to do?" Sam's heart accelerated, as he hurriedly tried the doorknob, twisting and turning until it finally released.

As the door swung open, Dean sat silently on the edge of the bathtub, his wrist covered in crimson tissue, dripping onto the linoleum. "Hey Sammy," He breathed, his voice barely audible above his whimpers. Dean drew in a quivering breath. "You have to promise me you won't tell dad."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam shook his head silently, barely able to contain the sight of the room in his mind. There was a huge puddle of blood at Dean's feet, a bloody knife thrown over by the door, and thin, narrow scars running up Dean's red arms. His eyebrows creased, as he took one step forward, not daring to be too bold. "I'm so sorry," Sam whispered, reaching for the opening of the tissue so he could peel it off. Dean winced a bit, before quickly biting down on his cheek, so Sam wouldn't see his pain. He was already embarrassed enough, he didn't want Sam to see him any more weak than he already was. Having your baby brother walk in on you cutting yourself, isn't exactly one of the categories of 'Big Brother of the Year'.

"Sam, stop." Dean muttered, pushing Sam's feeble, bloody hands away. Sam looked generally surprised at the notion,and he quickly picked up the vibe. "Just go watch your damn movie."

"Dean please, I just want to he—"

"Don't you dare say help. I'm the older brother. I should be taking care of you. Got it?" Dean huffed, sending his brother on his way. He glared at the bathroom door, rolling his eyes, thinking of the desperation in Sam's efforts. Dean had only seen desperation like that once before—the day his mother died. Their dad used to be so fun, always taking Dean on hikes and teaching him how to play sports. When Sam was born, things had changed for the better. His mom and dad would take shifts watching Sam, and the other would play with Dean. Until November 2nd.

Sam stared at the blank television screen, not sure whether or not to plop in the movie or go check back with Dean. He thought back to Dean's burst of anger, interrupted with tears forming in his eyes. All Sam could think of was the blood coursing down his arms, and how many cuts opened into his veins. It pained him to think of his brother like that, and tried quickly to cast the thought out of his mind.

Leaning forward, he removed the DVD from the case, and placed it gently in the player. He had his Kraft Dinner with him, and tried hard to clear his mind, and wait for his dad to get home. He'd know what to do, Sam hoped.

Sam was about halfway through the movie, when Dean finally emerged from his cocoon in the bathroom. He barely acknowledged Sam, as he sank down onto the couch, letting his legs fly up onto a nearby coffee table.

By now, the main female lead Esmeralda, was in a church locked in for what seemed like forever. She had started singing her main song God Help the Outcasts, and Sam tried desperately not to tear up at the familiarity.

He glanced over at Dean, who gulped heavily, trying to ignore eye contact with Sam. His eyes darted all around the room, as he gripped his arm tighter, pulling his sleeve over his cuts.

Sam forced a smile, sliding over beside his brother, leaning into him. At first, it felt alien, as Dean almost didn't know how to respond. Finally, he let his arm drape over his brother like a sheltering curtain. "Dean?" Sam breathed.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Are we outcasts?" It was a simple enough question, yet neither of them fully wanted to address it. Every few seconds, Dean would take in a breath, open his mouth to speak, and just let out another small breath.

Instead of fully replying, Dean walked over to the round kitchen table, seated for one person with a few water bottles sitting over-top of pictures of previous hunts. Dean grabbed the closest one to him, and easiest to access. "What is this?" He asked.

His brother took a few seconds to glance at it, then upon seeing the tiny drops of blood painted across the monster's face answered, "A vampire."

"And how do you kill it?"

"Easy, you usually have to weaken it with dead man's blood, and then decapitate it, and burn the body. Well you don't need to burn the body-dad just says you should get rid of it." Sam grinned, pride running through him, as Dean sat back down beside him.

"See Sam? You answered your own question." Sam ignored his brother's sarcastic tone, and continued watching the movie, trying to remind himself on repeat that it was in fact a movie and not an autobiography on his life. Every now and then, he'd turn over to Dean, watching his expression change throughout the movie. It wasn't very often when a movie would actually hypnotize Dean into receiving emotional feelings, but this was one of the rare occasions. There was even a glimmer of a threatening tear, welling up in his brother's eye.

The two mostly sat in silence for the rest of the movie, but when the credits rolled up on screen Dean just headed back over to the washroom, while Sam simply wandered over to the side of his bed. He went down on his knees, and propped his hands up onto the bed, weaving his fingers together, as he closed his eyes.

"Dear God, I don't know if you can hear me, maybe you're busy fixing other people, like Santa does, but it would mean a lot to me if you helped my brother Dean. He can be kind of a jerk sometimes, but I promise he's good underneath. Maybe you could send down an angel? It doesn't matter, even just listening means a lot to me, and I—"

"Sam, what do you're doing?" Dean barked, entering the room as soon as he had heard his baby brother talking, when nobody else was in the room. His thoughts automatically leaped to ghost.

Sam hesitated, terror flashing through his eyes. He knew Dean wasn't the most religious person, nor his father, but Sam didn't see any reason not to believe. "I'm praying to God. For you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot, Sammy. God doesn't exist."

"How do you know?"

"Because if he did, our lives wouldn't be like this!" The teen screamed, a bit of spit spraying onto Sam, as he grabbed his brother's hand and pulled him up onto his feet. "Do you know what Dad would say?"

Sam remained silent. He hadn't meant to do Dean any harm, or hurt his feelings by any means. He wanted to save his brother, his dad, and him. He thought if anyone would help, it'd be God. Maybe he'd clean up the blood from the bathroom, and fix Dean's wounds. He'd stop the hunting, and let John have a normal life to enjoy with his sons. They would be protected by angels for eternity.

"Do you?"

"No," Sam whimpered, wishing he could just fade into a shadow, and never be seen again. He hated the nights like this, where Dean tried to take the role of his guardian.

"He'd yell at you. Call you an idiot, and probably hurt you again. Then I'd get in trouble, Sam. Do you want me to get in trouble for something you did?"

Sam muttered something softly under his breath, causing Dean's immediate attention. Though his brother remained quiet, he knew exactly what he was thinking. They had gone to school long enough to understand when people whispered about them specifically. "I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just trying to help."

The teen scoffed, before heading back into the bathroom, his arm leaking scattered stains of crimson liquid. Though, right before he was about to walk in, he paused in the collapsing doorway, licking his lips, attempting to chap them. "I know you were Sammy. I know." He muttered, before closing the door behind him, leaving Sam to do what he wanted.

"Please," Sam purred into the stained mattress, his eyebrows creasing together in pressed worry. "Please send help."


	3. Chapter 3

The wind howled and screamed at the trees, almost knocking their branches into the thin windows of the motel, some of them breaking open effortlessly. Sam's birthday was upon them now, and yet nobody showed any sign of recollection. Not even Sam himself. Both he and Dean woke up this morning in a rage from the previous night. Neither of them said anything to each other, nor acknowledging one another's presence. It was as if they were nothing but ghosts, drifting by each other.

Yet, something was off. A slight change in the heating, or cooling even. The weather was different than how it should be; darker clouds or something like that. A supernatural breeze blew throughout the town. The boys had never seen anything by the likes of it. It wasn't demons, gods, or even possible djinnss. This was something...different.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, barely opening his mouth in fear he'd be shot down. Dean barely turned his head, just so he'd be able to see his brother.

"What?"

"It's my birthday."

Dean sighed, nodding a bit before walking over to Sam, his arms outstretched as he took the boy into his arms. "I know it is, Sammy. Happy birthday." He slowly discarded Sam from his arms, as he went to the fridge to pull out a cheap pizza-place cake, which was for the most part, caved into the middle. The icing was folded over, practically sliding off of the cake's thin base. It looked far from delectable.

As Dean was about to take off the plastic coverings, there was a sudden knock at the door. Three little taps. Not their father, he just barged in. Not housekeeping, they didn't order any. So the question was of course, who?

Slowly, Sam began to stand up and walk towards the door. Dean moved in close behind, in case anything were to happen to his brother.

Sam swallowed, placing his sweaty hand on the doorknob, as he pulled it open. To his amazement, there was something he had never seen so closely before in the doorway. A girl. A teenage one, about Dean's age. And by god she was beautiful. Long, dark wet hair cascading and curling right by the small of her back. Bright, blue eyes and a toothpaste grin. Seeing Sam, she bent down to his height and gave him an award winning smile.

"Hello, my name is Cassie, do you by any chance happen to have a spare bed, or area that I can sleep on? Oh it's not just you is it, darling?" She whispered, peering around Sam.

"Uh no, my dad should be coming back soon. Bye," just as he was about to close the door, her hand caught in it, and pulled it further open.

Her eyes reflected beams of moonlight, and gave her a certain aura. "Please, I have no place to go. I was just kicked out of home by my father, and my siblings, ones I thought loved and cared for me, watched as I left without a single word. I beg of you. Just one night." Around her shoulders she held a large, holey wool blanket, with a book bag hanging as low as her feet.

The second the boy opened his mouth to reply, Dean yanked the door from his grasp and faced 'Cassie' himself. He sent Sam on his way. "Who are you?"

She beamed, her rosy cheeks adding colour to her cold face. "I am Cassie Heart. Or at least, that's what I was called. Named."

Dean nodded, trying hard not to act too rude or tough. "Hey Cassie. What're you doing up this early all alone. Don't you know that there're some bad folks out here?" He watched her carefully, searching for any sign of demonic possession. People didn't just 'accidentally' stumble across the Winchesters.

"I'll take your word for it, I don't plan on searching for them myself." She bit her lip, nodding softly and staring into his eyes, as if looking for something familiar. There was something hollow about her—as if all the humanity was sucked out and replaced. Worst of all, she seemed to be almost glowing.

Cassie cleared her throat softly, regaining Dean's attention. "You have yet to give me a full answer."

"Yeah," Dean coughed, trying to puff himself up to look bigger and stronger than he was. "I guess one night could be alright. So long as me and Sammy's dad don't come busting through the door with some bloody, dead animal."

The girl didn't reply, instead she just paraded into the hotel room, slamming her bag down beside Sam on the floor, where he was now sitting.

"Hello Sam," She greeted again with a grin.

"Hi."

"You seem very quiet—very 'out of it'. Is something wrong? Maybe I stumbled in at the wrong moment. Should I leave?"

Sam sighed inwardly, glancing over at her with sad eyes, filled to the brim with potential tears. "No I—no. I dunno. Maybe."

"Sammy, I want you to go to sleep, k?" Dean commanded, standing over the two, arms folded just like his good ol' daddy. "And leave the girl alone—she's leavin' tomorrow and I don't want you makin' a ruckus 'bout it." Without wanting to hear another word from the opposing side, he turned off the tv and headed back into the bathroom.

"Of course." Sam muttered, standing up and kicking off his dirt stained socks. He turned to Cassie, who had confusion written all over her tanned face. "He's in the bathroom all the time. I think he's hurtin' hisself."

Cassie's lips parted silently, and her eyebrows furrowed together and she stared up at the boy. "Hurting himself how, Sam?"

"I dunno, cuts and stuff. With dad's razors, I think."

"It's worse than I thought." Cassie mumbled to herself, before standing up beside Sam. "Your brother is right, Sam, you should probably go to sleep now. Tomorrow is a new day."

"It's just Thursday." Cassie smiled softly to the side, as Sam rolled his eyes and tucked himself inside the flat motel quilt.

Once she was sure Sam was asleep, Cassie headed to the washroom, pressing her ear against the door. Inside several winces and whimpers erupted no matter how hard he tried to contain them. Cassie felt a tear slide down her cheek, as she let it fall onto her finger, where she examined it. So this is what it feels like to cry, she thought, how human.

She knocked quietly on the door, trying the knob shortly after. Locked. She sighed, as she forced all her strength into her hand, and broke the lock.

Dean instantly whipped around, the blade motionless above his bleeding forearm. "Cassie, what the fu—"

"Dean, we need to talk."

The two sat on a bench directly outside of the Winchester's room, neither exchanging words, as they both tried not to breathe. A soft breeze blew around them, whipping Cassie's hair around. Trees shook lightly, and the sky darkened every waking moment. Finally Dean sighed, slapping his hand onto his thigh.

"Listen Cassie, you think you can march into my life with your pretty face, and batting eyelashes, and proceed to tell Sammy and me what to do? I have seen things your mind could never even dream of. I don't know what corner of hell you were spat from, but I plan on sending you right on back. So if you got somethin' to say, might as well come out with it before my knife is in that pretty little heart o' yours. Understand?"

Cassie said nothing, she just watched him, her eyebrows together in despair and confusion. Her eyes were huge and dilated, surprise rushing through her body. "What kind of life have you known, Dean Winchester?"

"Who are you?"

"I am trusted. And I trust you have a lot you need to tell me." Cassie moved a hand over to Dean's shoulder, letting it rest there without second thought.

"Listen sweetheart, I ain't telling you anything, you can march your ass back to hell for all I care." The hunter stared into the darkness, not daring to glance at the creature beside him. In his mind he slowly searched for all monsters he had ever hunted. Werewolves, djinns, vampires, ghosts, demons. She didn't seem to fit any of the criteria.

Cassie laughed, a whole sweet laugh. "You keep saying hell, but tell me, what sins have I preformed? What evil task have I attempted? What crime have I committed? Hell is not a place for the ones who are trying to help you Dean. Let me help, please. I can save you."

"The only thing you can save me, is the trouble it'll take to wake you up in the morning. I want you gone by ten, or you can stay and see what kinda morning person I am." With that, Dean stood and headed back to open the door, when Cassie's hand gripped his shoulder, sending a burning sensation throughout his body.

"Perhaps you'd let me help if I were of opposite gender? Such as your brother, your father, and of course yourself."

Dean scoffed, brushing her off. "Just leave me alone, I don't need your help. None of us do." He slammed the door in her face, letting her stand in astonishment. She watched the heavens, as a bolt of lightning struck the ground, illuminating a large, glorious pair of black wings.


	4. Chapter 4

An aroma of fresh pancakes wavered through the air, filling the motel room with a homey and welcoming sensation. Suddenly, the cracked walls were a sign of nostalgia. The slanted floors part of the charm. It was a new day.

Dean rolled out of bed, checking the time. 10:01 burned in bright, neon crimson numbering. He groaned, and kicked his feet over the side, forcing himself out of bed. He walked over into the kitchen, trying to find the source of them scent. Instead, he found a shirtless man, flipping pancakes with a huge grin on his face. He had dark, black hair and sad blue eyes, hidden behind his grin. There were strange marks all over his torso, which captured Dean's full attention.

"Nice—er—tattoos you got there. You wanna tell me where you got 'em, and why the hell you're in my hotel room?"

The man instantly stopped flipping, and gracefully reached for a white dress shirt, sliding it over his arms, but not bothering to button it up. "Hello Dean," responded a deep, gravelly voice. "Apologies, you must not have been expecting this." He motioned his hands up and down around his body, which Dean couldn't help but compliment the curves of. He was pretty cut for a burglar.

"Yeah great, but see that doesn't answer either of my questions, douche-bag." The man stared, his voice too strong for his young face and body. His eyes looked as if he had seen the deepest secrets of humanity itself.

"Of course. What do you wish to know?"

Dean's mouth dropped in disbelief. "I've been trying to tell you what I want. Who are you, and why the hell are you here?"

"My name is Castiel and I am here to help, you hardly need to worry Dean. Not all people are bad. I simply came here, because I was told to. I am merely following orders." Castiel began to walk over to the hunter, until they were less than a foot apart from one another. Dean could feel his soft—almost forced—breaths touch his neck. Castiel's forehead must've been an inch lower than Dean's at most, but apart from that they were practically identical in physical form. Same weight, same size, same age.

Dean scoffed, trying not to get lost in the other man's eyes. I'm not even gay dammit. "Help? Oh that's rich. 'Cause you know, everyone who has ever tried to 'help' me was either trying to get into my pants, or my dad's. But I'll leave that up to your vivid imagination, Castiel."

"Dean? Who are you talkin' to?" Sam moaned, rubbing crusts out of his fluttering eyes. "Where's Cassie? Did she leave without sayin' bye?"

Castiel simply watched Dean, making no move to say anything to the young boy walking around in regular clothes rather than pajamas, like any other child his age. He watched Dean try to begin several different sentences, occasionally glancing back over at him. And he had to admit, it was peaceful.

Dean attempted a smile, kneeling down to Sam's height after looking back at Cas one more time. "Hey Sammy, have a good sleep?"

"Pfft, no. Motel beds are all the same—cheap and crappy. The floor is comfier. Where's Cassie?"

"Listen Sam, Cassie had to go. She didn't belong here, she was one of them. But this is Castiel, he apparently thinks he can help."

Sam beamed, excitement running through his body as he ran to hug the new stranger. Castiel paused, as if buffering what he had to do next, before letting a hand rest on the eleven year old's head. "I knew you'd come." Sam whispered to him.

"I assure you—"

"Castiel, like the archangel right? I asked for you, and you came. Thank you." Sam glanced up at him, his eyes wide and hopeful, the look of a child learning about Santa for the first time.

Dean's eyes widened as he immediately stood up, pulling Sam away from Castiel, giving him time to button up his shirt. "Sammy, I thought I told you not to say things like that."

"That was before you told me, though." Sam watched Dean hopefully, waiting for the familiar rush of a cool hand whipping across his face, sending a gush of blood up to the spot. It was what happened whenever John got too angry with either him or Dean. By now, they were both used to it.

However, Dean just merely shook his head, looking disgusted with himself after staring at his raised hand. Instead, he let simply grabbed Sam's shoulders, and pulled him close.

Castiel stood in place, watching the boys hold each other, both holding back tears. "If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss some things with you, Sam."

"Dean," Sam grumbled into his brother's shoulders. "Dean," He sighed, "Dean, can you let go now?"

The thing about Dean Winchester was that, his whole life he had done nothing but live up to his Dad's expectations towards everything. His hunting trips, his revenge and cause, his wardrobe, his language, he even adapted John's walk. The only thing Dean could never understand, was John's disappointment towards Sam. In any other family, in any other household, a boy with straight A grades was loved and held close in everyone's heart. When it came to the Winchesters, a boy with straight A grades was frowned upon, and disapproved of.

There was never a day that passed when John was home, that there wouldn't be a fight that would break out before Sam and him. Meanwhile, Dean would be out with some meaningless girl, trying not to think about the punishments Sam was facing at the same moment. A child at barely eleven should not have to yell at his father for teaching him how to hold a rifle properly, or for hesitating to stab some seemingly innocent person.

True, Dean would be present majority of the time, and whenever a heartbreaking smack echoed throughout the room, Dean's eyelids would flutter, and they would blink back tears, as he watched his brother run over to him to rush into his arms. Dean had vowed to never hurt Sam the way he had seen his father do time and time again without mercy or hesitation.

"Sorry Sammy, I'm so sorry." Dean whispered, letting go of his brother. "Just, promise me you won't trust this guy too much? I don't trust him."

Though the words had been whispered into Sam's ear, Castiel twitched, an unknown feeling rushing through his body in confusion.

"Come along, Sam." He muttered, taking the boy's hand and leading him outside. "We've much to discuss."

The two sat outside the room again, sitting on the same bench from the previous night, both thinking of what to say first.

"So, you're an angel right?"

Castiel turned to Sam, whose eyes were wide in hope and amazement. In awe and wonder. The angel said nothing for a while, going over his words and wondering how such a small boy knew so much of the world, that grown adults could not wrap their minds around.

The hunter sat in silence, watching Castiel and analyzing his every move, every thought. There was so much excitement coursing throughout his body, he could feel his heart racing.

"Sam, I wanted to talk with you about Dean. That's my purpose here, that is what I was sent here to do." Cas nodded along with his own words, making sure they sounded right.

Sam meanwhile, creased his eyebrows together, and pouted. "Why? Why do angels care so much 'bout us?"

"Protect Dean Winchester I was told. Save him. I do not question my orders, Sam, nor do I ever wish to. You may have your ways of discovering information, while I have my own. I wish for you to tell me about your brother, and his safety."

The boy said nothing for a while, only watch Cas. Before in the room, he felt no fear or threat from him, but now he could barely catch his breath, or even steady his shaking hand. There was something about being alone with this total stranger that striked terror into Sam's mind.

By now the sky had changed from a timid blue to the colour of mold, with various different colours swirling around along the edges and middle of the gray. A storm was coming, and John had yet to reveal any information regarding his current whereabouts.

"Dean's been hurtin' hisself a lot, I think. He goes into the bathroom, and makes hisself bleed. He's beginnin' to scare me. I just wanna be normal. Can you make us a normal family?"

Cas watched Sam's lower lip quiver as he muttered the finishing sentence. "You must understand that though my powers may be great, I do not have the capability to make your family a nor—"

"B-but you're an angel! You can do anything!"

"Sam, please I—"

"You're such a robot! You ask if my brother's safe, and then once you find the truth you push it aside an' ignore it!" The brunette quickly rose up, running inside the hotel room and slamming the door behind him, and locking it. He glanced over at his bed, and tried to hold back his tears, he didn't want to bother Dean with his meaningless 'sob stories'. Instead, he grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around himself, then proceeding to hide under the bed. From underneath the cobwebbed springs, he could see a jolly rancher wrapper, a (used?) condom, a few dead bugs, and then in the middle of the hallway, a pair of shoes attached to a pair of legs covered in navy dress pants, that he couldn't recall ever belonging to Dean or his father.

You'd think an angel would be able to open a locked door, Sam thought to himself.

"Dean, I require your attention." Castiel said in a monotone, knocking on the bathroom door. From inside the bathroom, Sam could hear the shower running, which was a huge relief from Dean's quiet whimpers in the dark.

From in the shower, Sam could hear various grunting noises and Dean struggled to hear Castiel over the running water.

"What?!"

"Dean, I requi—"

"Just come in for a minute!"

The bathroom door then creaked open, and the shoes quickly vanished into the room. It was silent for a few long moments, except Sam's heavy breathing, when all of a sudden there was an echoing scream from the washroom.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Get the fuck out!" Dean yelled. Over and over Sam could hear bits and pieces of Castiel saying something about heaven, and god and Lucifer, though he couldn't quite understand why that'd be important right now. He still couldn't understand how Dean wasn't pulling a huge scene of his usual 'angels aren't real' argument. However, if Castiel really was an angel, he was probably one of the biggest disappointments Sam had ever experienced in his life.

A few moments later, there was a rush of scattering footsteps practically falling from the bathroom, as the shoes stood in front of the bed.

Castiel huffed, allowing himself to sit down on the nearby couch, looking for some article of clothing that he could wear as a shirt—if Dean was embarrassed about people seeing his body in all it's glory, Castiel thought he should probably react in the same way. He glanced around the room, spying a piece of dark green material over to the side of an unmade bed.

He recognized it as one of Dean's shirts, after all he had been watching the boy for such a long time, he could list of every thing he has ever worn for the past year without giving it a second thought.

He grabbed the shirt and felt it in his hands, it was a bit damp and wrinkled, but apart from that Cas voted it wearable. As he tugged it over himself, he tried not to be entirely hypnotized with the smell of Dean's body imprinted all over the shirt. A hint of alcohol mixed in with the smell of hotel—that sort of nice musty smell that makes you feel at home. That makes anyone feel at home really, and in this case it was the angel who longed to be back by his family's side.

He breathed in the scent, smiling softly as he watched the fabric fall over his skin. The size wasn't too different, Cas was only a little bit smaller than Dean, but apart from that it fit like a glove.

Suddenly, the bathroom door clicked open, and Dean emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, as he combed his wet hair back with his hand. "Listen here, I don't give a rat's ass if you're president, you do not—wh-what are you doing with my shirt?"

Cas smiled down at himself, before glancing back up at the hunter with a lazy grin. "I'm wearing it."

"No, you're stealing it, is what you're doin'."

"My apologies. If you wish to have it back I shall obey." In a single motion, the angel began to lift the shirt over his head flashing Dean a clean set of abs.

Dean simply gawked, trying to find his voice to try to tell Cas to stop, but it simply wouldn't comply.

Castiel now held the shirt in his hand, with an innocent expression on his face. He watched Dean with confusion, unsure of how the human was responding. Cas thought that Dean wanted his shirt back, and he tried to grant his wish. Now it seemed as if Dean wanted so much more. His eyes grew darker in an expression Castiel was not familiar with, and his lips were opened partially.

Slowly, Sam crawled out from underneath the bed, his quilt still tight around him. His eyes widened as he surveyed the scene, two teenage boys standing shirtless in front of one another, one of the two looking at the other as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat.

Dean whirled around, his cheeks flushed. "Sam, where've you been?"

"I—" The boy glanced over at Castiel, his eyebrows furrowing. "Don't trust him, Dean. He'll betray us."

Cas held eye contact with Sam, watching his movements and reading his thoughts. On most cases he would try not to use telepathy on humans, but he was told about Sam Winchester, he was told what a prodigy he would be, what an important key role he'd play in the final battle, between heaven and hell. Sam Winchester was probably the most important human on the earth, and his brother was no different.

"Is that true, Cas?" Dean glared at the dark haired teen.

"What you need to understand Dean, is that I am no demon, nor being of hell, nor being you have ever come across. I am not here for an evil purpose, I am here to protect you." Castiel glanced back over to Sam. "Both of you."

"Oh yeah? So what the hell are you? Because let me tell you somethin'. Sam and I have seen things you wouldn't dream of. If you ain't one of them, then what demonic creature are you?" Dean pulled Sam in close, watching Cas with a new look—apparently Dean Winchester had a lot of different looks—and waiting eagerly for a reply.

In the meanwhile, Castiel just simply laughed. Not a full laugh, nor a giggle. Just a simple 'ha-ha'. "Quite the contrary actually. I'm an angel of the lord."

There was silence for a while. Cas stared at the brothers blankly, mostly at Dean, while they just stood there ground, watching the angel without blinking. All of their life, they were told about angels, and while Sam believed them almost to the extent of them being as real as demons, Dean thought of them as nothing but a simple myth. Along with mermaids, minotaurs, and hobbits. As for god, well Dean was as far from Christianity as humanly possible.

Slowly, Dean began to laugh, clapping his hands together. Apparently, he found this whole situation hilarious. "An angel? As in giant, fluffy white wings? As in heaven, and god? Listen buddy, you may as well tell me that your name is Ariel and you live in the big blue sea."

"I don't understand what you find so funny about this. My father created you, how do you not hold faith to him? Also, I don't know who Ariel is, but my name is Cast—"

Dean stared at him blankly. "Yeah, we know who you are. But really? Angels? Sorry, the insane asylum is down the next road."

Castiel began to slowly puff himself up, attempting to make his vessel look bigger than a mere scrawny teenager. He took two steps towards Dean, until he was only an inch away from the hunter's face. "I am not in need of an asylum for the mentally insane. You lack faith, and you suffer from trust issues, I do not wish to harm you, Dean. Lying to you would be pointless. If I wanted to betray either of you, both of you would be deceased."

Sam began to break into a smile. "So you really are an angel, then? You admit it? You can help us then! Just like you said you wanna."

Neither of the teens spoke, instead they both just stood their ground, their arms held at their sides and their backs straight. This was going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
